


Peace

by pressedinthepages



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, geralt go fix it you dumbass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: Geralt borrows Eskel’s braincell in an effort to apologize to Jaskier.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 152





	Peace

**Author's Note:**

> @sometimesiwrite requested Geralt and Eskel having a conversation post-mountain!

Geralt was in Velen, in a tavern in the middle of nowhere. The wind howled outside of the dingy window stained with gods-know-what. He watched as rain began to pour, thankful that he was able to afford an ale that granted him a spot under a roof. Ever since Jaskier left him on that mountain, coin had been few and far between, and Geralt hadn’t really felt the same motivation to take on new jobs. Geralt nursed the same sad, watered-down ale that he had been working on for the better part of an hour, mulling the aching silence that ate at the marrow in his bones. 

The door to the tavern suddenly slammed open, startling Geralt away from his thoughts. A familiar face peered out from beneath a dark hood before it fell. Another Witcher, strikingly similar to Geralt, save for the mahogany hair and scars down his cheek. His golden eyes tracked around the room before they caught Geralt’s, a smile pulling his lips into an odd sort of grimace as he strode to the White Wolf’s table.

“Eskel,” Geralt smirked, “Well met, wolf.”

Eskel shucked off his wet cloak before he sat across from Geralt, motioning to the barmaid to bring him an ale of his own. She set it down gently as Eskel passed her a bright coin, leaving the two Witchers to their own devices. 

“It’s quiet,” Eskel peered over his shoulder to examine the rest of the room, finding a scant handful of other travelers tucked away in the shadows. 

“Has been all afternoon,” Geralt replied, running his thumb over the rough handle of the tankard before him. 

“Not usually,” Eskel hummed, “Where’s your bard?”

Geralt’s mind ground to a halt for a split second, panic seeping under his skin. He shook it off quickly and hid it with a long draw from his cup. “He-he’s not  _ my  _ bard.”

Eskel scoffed with a shake of his head, his eyes, so like Geralt’s, narrowing in clear disbelief. “Horseshit. That bard follows you all over the Continent for more than twenty years, writes songs about your contracts and how much of a hero you are, you’ve saved his life how many times? He’s your bard.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably in his seat before leaning back against the wall with a  _ thunk  _ of his head. “I fucked it up Eskel, royally fucked it up.”

Eskel hummed with a crook of his brow, raising his cup to his lips.   
  


“I-I took out my anger on him, said some things I didn’t mean. I blamed him for every shit thing that’s gone on, but tha-that’s not fair.”

Eskel swallowed with a nod of his head and a tired look in his eyes. “How long has it been since you’ve been together?”

“Few months.”

“Geralt. I mean this with the utmost sincerity,” Eskel reached across the table and grabs his brother by the shoulder, “you dumbass. Go find him. You won’t find many rays of sunshine like that in a life like ours, don’t you  _ dare  _ let one go.”

Eskel’s eyes bored relentlessly into Geralt’s, brokering no room for argument. And Geralt knew that he was right. Geralt stood, reaching for his swords.  _ May as well, Oxenfurt is a long ways away... _

Eskel reached out again, but in a motion to stop Geralt. “No, wait. It’s pouring. Have a drink with me, let the skies calm.  _ Then,  _ go get him.”

Geralt hummed as he sets his swords back down, another ale joining his now-empty cup on the table. Eskel winked at the pretty barmaid as she takes her leave once more, giggling under her breath. Geralt rolled his eyes as Eskel smirked into his ale.

* * *

_ Gods,  _ Geralt hated Oxenfurt. Not nearly as much as Novigrad, but still. There’s just so  _ much,  _ everywhere, all of the time. At least here, though, Jaskier’s kind influence has reached. People recognized him, and not as a threat. They actually  _ smiled  _ as he passed atop Roach, weaving through bustling city streets. 

The university loomed through the fog, dense and chilly with the approaching frost. Roach plodded confidently through the gates and Geralt steered her towards the stables, hoping to just easily leave her under a shelter with some hay.

There was no such luck though, a young stablegirl coming to meet him as he dismounts. She smiled, a cute little thing with a gap between her two front teeth. She had straw in her hair and tears along the bottom of her skirt where it was a bit too long for her, and Geralt can’t help but smile back. 

“I can take care of your horse, Master Witcher. I’ll brush her down and give her lots of pets, if she likes them.” Her words even had a little lisp whenever her tongue caught in that notch between her teeth. Geralt melted a bit at just how innocent this little human is. 

“Alright, sure.” Geralt nodded, handing Roach’s reins to the girl. “Be careful with her, though. She’s pretty big, don’t let her push you around. Come find me if you need to.”

Geralt knew that she wouldn’t need to. This Roach was wonderful, and she  _ loved  _ children. She was already putty in the little girl’s hands, letting her scratch behind her ears and down the velvet of her nose. 

Geralt walked quickly towards the dormitories that house the professors. The sun has set, leaving the world drenched in an ethereal twilight. Geralt visited Jaskier here once before, fetching him in the spring so they may begin their travels. He just hoped it’s the same damned room. 

As he approached, Geralt knows that he was at the right spot. He could hear Jaskier humming behind the door, and he can smell the bard in the air. But something was off about the scent, tinged with a damp, earthy scent that could only be described as  _ sad.  _

__ Geralt took a deep breath and knocked gently, his knuckles just barely rapping on the cured wood. He heard the humming stop, replaced by quiet muttering. “Do they know what hour it is? By the Gods, this is why I can’t stand scholars…”

The door opened, revealing Jaskier just on the other side. It was just as soon slammed into Geralt’s face, and he heard how Jaskier gasped before he wrenched the door back open. The two of them stared at each other in stunned silence, and Geralt could almost make a quip about how often  _ that  _ must happen for the bard.

But then he saw Jaskier’s eyes, so bright and blue with clear skies and rays of moonlight, start to well up, and before he knew it he had an armful of bard sobbing into his shoulder.

“Oh Geralt, you actually came for me!” Jaskier cried, touching and feeling Geralt under his hand as if worried he may disappear. “Geralt, I’m so s-”

“Don’t,” Geralt said as he turned his face into Jaskier’s hair. “Don’t you dare apologize. I should be on my knees, begging you to forgive me.”

Jaskier pulled back, his cheeks flushed and eyes reddened. Geralt was yanked into the dorm and the door shut decisively behind him. Geralt shuffled, looking around the room, bare of anything personal, save for Jaskier’s precious lute tucked into the corner. 

“Jaskier, I-the things that I said. You were right, they weren’t fair. I was hurt and lashing out, and I know that’s no excuse, and you deserve  _ so much better _ than what I have to give you, and-”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, pushing himself flush up against Geralt and taking his face into his hands. “You silly Witcher, you are forgiven. Yes, it hurt. But it hurt more to know that you were in pain, and there wasn’t anything I could do that would help.”

Geralt sighed as Jaskier ran his fingers through his hair, breathing in deeply as Jaskier’s scent finds its resonance in his soul. “Jaskier, I-I care very deeply for you. And I can’t push it down anymore.”

Jaskier paused his minstrations, looking deep into Geralt’s eyes. They stayed like this, suspended in their own creation before Jaskier breathed in, pressing even closer.

“May I do something that I have wanted to do for a  _ very  _ long time, dear Witcher?”

Geralt swallowed thickly and nodded, rubbing his fingers nervously where they sit at his side. Jaskier tilted his head up and just barely brushes his lips over Geralts, only the fluttering of fairy wings left in the movement. 

But then Geralt grew bold, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist and holding him tight, slotting their lips together in a move that feels so perfect it is as if Destiny planned it herself. Jaskier positively melted, his hands tangling in Geralt’s silver hair and tugging him impossibly closer.

Jaskier broke the kiss first, keeping his arms wound around Geralt’s neck. “So, does this mean I can come back on the Path with you?” He smirked, already damn well knowing the answer.

Geralt hummed, resting his forehead on Jaskier’s. “If you would be by my side, I would be forever grateful.”

“There is nowhere I would rather be than at your side, my White Wolf.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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